


Healing

by Sarunamii



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gang Rape, Hurt Will Turner, M/M, Rape, Raped Will Turner, Slave Will Turner, Torture, slave - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-24 08:35:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 6,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16636538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarunamii/pseuds/Sarunamii
Summary: (AU) What if Elizabeth failed to convince Commodore Norrington to go back for Will at the end of the first movie? This is how it could have turned out.





	1. Breaking the Curse

Despite his better effort, Will flinched at the sharp pain of the knife slashing across his palm. He had been expecting death, so the minor wound to his hand came as a surprise to the young man. His eyes jerked to the pirate captain performing the curse breaking ritual looking for a reason for his continued breathing.

Barbossa smirked at him and dropped the last bloodied medallion into the chest with the rest of the cursed Aztec gold with a soft clink. For a moment all was silent, and then a soft whisper from a pirate in the back near the cave entrance, “I feel…” A wild cheer broke out, quickly dissolving into rowdy laughter and loud chatter. Pirates congratulated each other on their long awaited success. The rum was immediately passed around and any vague semblance to order was gone. With no more use for him, Barbossa shoved Will towards the unruly bunch and pulled out one of his long desired apples, gazing at it like a long lost love. The pirate captain strolled off without as much as a backwards glance towards the struggling blacksmith.

As Will was swallowed by the crowd, fear rushed up into his chest, quickly replacing the shock of still being alive. Callous hands grasped and groped at him. He struggled in vain against the greedy hands of the vicious pirates, but their frenzied blood lust were intensified by the first sounds of ripping fabric. When he tried to fight back, brutal blows countered Will's ineffective efforts. Failing in his attempts to fend of his attackers, Will tried to curl up into a fetal position to protect himself from further cruelty, only to be forcibly wrenched out straight. 

The abuse lasted an eternity. Some of the pirates just wanted to feel…anything, some to revel in the sensation of brutal violence, and some the ecstasy of the carnal intimacy. The first group grew tired of the sport first and moved on to feel other things. It was once the second group had momentarily sated their thirst for blood, that the last group seized control. Will was barely conscious by this time, but it mattered little these pirates so starved for these sensual touches. When one pirate moved away another took his place, maneuvering and manipulating the beaten man into whatever humiliating position took the fancy of that particular assailant.

Fading in and out of the terrible proceedings, the young blacksmith was only vaguely aware as, one by one, they dispersed to sleep off the effects of their revelry, leaving Will where he lay, broken and bleeding in a pool of his blood. Periodically during the night a drunk pirate, wanting more, would return to his prone body before staggering off again. Will could feel his mind shutting down, trying to block out the horror, but a part of him stubbornly hung on to reality, hoping against hope that some sort of rescue would retrieve him from this terrible fate.


	2. Sold

The first time Captain Hawke saw him, Will was curled up in the farthest corner possible of his cell. His left leg was stretched out, broken. He clutched at his side with shallow breaths. His dirty hair hung down blocking his face from view. The slight tightening of his hands was the only sign Will gave to being aware of the men studying him. He had just survived the longest few weeks of his life. In the time it had taken to leave the Isla de la Muerta and sail to the corrupt port of Tortuga, Will had had a constant stream of dirty buccaneers revisiting the abuse from that first terrible night as they attempted to make up for the decade they had spent unable to feel any sort of satisfaction of any kind. To his dismay, Will became their unwilling outlet.

Barbossa had made it clear to his crew from the beginning, when he had his men haul the near lifeless form from the dark caves back to the Black Pearl's cold brig, that he intended to sell the young man and that he would be extremely unhappy with anyone that put a dent in those plans. It was the only reason Will made it to Tortuga alive. So while constant pain clouded his senses and his unprotected body shivered uncontrollably from the cold, the crew of the Black Pearl limited their visits and kept the blacksmith alive. There was no profit to be had from a corpse. 

Once they finally reached Tortuga, Will hadn’t been sure if he should be relieved or terrified. He knew Barbossa meant to sell him, but there was no way to tell if that would be an improvement of his current circumstances or not. Most of the crew were more than happy to find themselves a girl to satisfy any further cravings, but there were the rare few that preferred a young man over any girl. These few had continued their constant visits to Will, but over all the abuse had eased up.

Will had been dozing when the approaching steps awoke him. The fugue of exhaustion and untreated wounds clouded his thoughts and left everything in a jumble. A harsh laugh echoing down from above deck had his involuntary flinch evolving into a ragged cough, so he lifted his glaring, feverish eyes upward towards Barbossa, while reflexively curling himself up tighter. The captain merely watched him for a moment, not saying a word, before directing his attention to the man that had followed him down. 

Captain Hawke was a tall lanky man, just starting to bald. He had an unassuming appearance that caused many to underestimate him, until they saw the sharp glint in his eyes. He was known for his ravenous greed and peculiar appetites. No one ever crossed him more than once. Taking a step closer to the iron bars, Hawke sniffed the air experimentally. “He looks half dead already,” he commented to Barbossa. “Last boy only lasted a few months, and he was healthy.”

“Looks can be deceiving,” Barbossa countered. “He’s a strong one – still got plenty of fight in him, but if you ain’t interested…”

They stood for a moment in contemplative silence. The other captain finally nodded. Money changed hands and Hawke’s men took charge of their captain’s new purchase. Will tried to limp along between the two pirates, but their fast gait left him being dragged most of the way. His nakedness drew a few glances, but he was still scarcely a fleeting thought in the minds of the inhabitants of Tortuga as they went about their normal day. Forcibly, Will choked back his whimpers from their rough handling and tried to blink away his tears formed by the throbbing agony in his leg. He was almost grateful when they finally stopped. 

The ship, the Smiling Skull, was a foreboding figure made of dark red wood. The figurehead was skeletal mermaid ever grinning like death. It was adorned with gaudy trimmings and embellishments screaming of wealth. Even the dark polished chains were hung in a methodical manner. Just shy of boarding the fearsome ship, the two pirates dropped Will on the ground. One grabbed a brush, while the other dumped a bucket of frigid water over the beaten man. They scrubbed his skin raw, brushed out his tangled hair, shaved his beard, and dressed his wounds. Then for the first time since the curse had been lifted, Will was given clothes to wear. He almost felt human again. 

Fear still had him deep in its clutches as Will was led on board to the captain’s cabin. There he was shackled by his right ankle to the far wall and left alone. Sitting on the low bedding, he surveyed the lush room. There was an elegant Persian rug, intricately woven tapestries, an extravagant master bed, a superbly crafted table, and wall of just thick volumes of hard-bound books. He couldn’t make out the names of any of them from where he was seated. Even if he hadn’t have been chained, Will didn’t believe he could have made it very far with his broken leg and cracked ribs. He tried to pray, but he felt abandoned and couldn’t find the words. Even when his mother had taken ill and finally died, Will hadn’t felt this hopeless.


	3. Captain's Boy

Several hours later the sounds of the cabin unlocking woke Will from his restless sleep. He pressed his back to the wall and prepared himself for the fight he knew was coming. Captain Hawke closed the door behind himself and watched his new cabin boy. Without a word he crossed to the cabinet and pulled down a pair of goblets. One he filled with champagne and the other from a small medicine bottle. He handed the cup with the medicine to Will and ordered, “Drink.” Spying Will’s suspicious look he added, “It’s not poison. I wouldn’t have bought you just to poison you.”

Hesitantly Will drank the medicine as Captain Hawke sipped his champagne. Within minutes his eyes were drooping and his head nodding. Seeing this, Hawke set down his goblet, and against Will’s vague protests, eased the young man down flat on his back. The last thing he was aware of was rough hands smoothing his hair back.

He blinked at the foggy sensation. Everything seemed so wonderful, like he was floating on air. Nothing else mattered. Slowly the fog dissipated and Will awakened, the world around him coming gradually into focus, but he still found it somewhat difficult to concentrate. He became aware of the sounds first, the soft creaking of wood, the howl of the wind, the splashing of waves, and the muffled sound of men working. Then came the sensation of cold metal around his right ankle, rough fabric of clothing, and the light weight of smooth sheets covering him. He just lay there for a moment, blinking dazedly, but with consciousness came the memories of the past few of weeks. Tentatively, Will shifted his left leg. No pain. He wiggled his toes, still no pain.

“The witch’s brew heals,” a voice stated from above. Will jerked and twisted his head towards it in surprise. His new owner sat at the table observing him, seeming almost uninterested. “You’ve slept for two days.” Captain Hawke offered no other information.

Will sat up and returned the captain’s gaze defiantly, “What-”

An unexpected backhand interrupted him, and the captain stated mildly, “You will not speak.”

Scowling, the young man slowly turned his eyes back towards Hawke. He tried once more to reason with the man, but received the same answer – punishment and the command not to speak. The two stared back at each other, Will with his angry resentment and the captain with his patient disinterest. 

“Are you hungry?” Hawke asked after some time had passed. When Will tried to answer the captain backhanded him again. In his frustration, Will rashly began to curse the other man, for which the punishment grew even harsher. He fought back against the pirate, but his mind and body were still sluggish from the drug. It wasn’t until the blacksmith lay too weak to even attempt to shield himself that the captain finally stopped his vicious beating. His head was lifted and the witch’s brew poured down his throat.

Will quickly lost track of how much time passed this way, him waking up in a drugged stupor and the captain beating him into near unconsciousness for breaking the unknown rules. Once he learned a one rule a new one was applied. Each time he awoke it was harder and harder to think through the drug-induced fog that used to be his brain. He made stupid mistakes and was slow to react. Escape was a long given up hope and the fight drained from his spirit. Will could no longer recall life before Captain Hawke. A part of him wanted to keep fighting, but he couldn’t remember why and that part grew quieter and smaller. He began to obey the strict rules without question and silently accepted his punishment for the rules he didn’t know. He was not allowed to make a sound or to even look at his owner or his crew. Unless in a drug-induced sleep, Will was to be kneeling with his head bowed by his bedding when anyone entered the captain’s cabin. The captain’s goblet was to be kept full at all times and every surface of the room kept polished. It was never good enough.


	4. Take What You Can, Give Nothing Back

There was no way to tell how long Will had been on the Smiling Skull when the pirates attacked the merchant vessel. The fierce roars outside stirred him from his dozing. The sounds of cannon fire and gun shots followed, with the clashing of sword against sword not far behind. The battle ended almost as quickly as it started, and then the screams started, a woman’s screams with a background of sobbing and laughter. 

The screams cut through the fog in Will’s brain like nothing else had or could. He studied the shackle, looking for a way to remove it from his ankle. He was still struggling with the chain when Captain Hawke slipped noiselessly into the room, a strange glint in his eyes. Will dropped the chain and took an involuntary step back towards the wall. Outside another woman’s screams joined the first.

“Did you forget?” Hawke queried, calm as ever.

Will froze with indecision. Everything in him demanding he drop to his knees in obedience to the captain’s rules, while a voice he couldn’t ignore in his head screamed at him to do something…anything to help the women outside.

Captain Hawke stated as Will’s eyes flickered towards the outside noises and then back to him, “You can’t help them. Might as well help yourself and kneel.” He pulled out his switch and took a threatening step forward. Trembling Will forced himself to his knees and bowed his head. He couldn’t help the women if he was dead. 

Will was surprised when he only received five lashes from the switch. He sat immobile, not daring to raise his head, even when he heard the captain’s rustling movements continue across the room. Hawke returned with his goblet of champagne. He drained half the glass as he stood over his slave, but when Will started to rise to refill the drink a hand on his head stopped him. As the goblet was set aside and the hand tangled itself in his hair, Will was suddenly reminded of his last few weeks with Barbossa’s crew. Panic clenched his throat, and Will lost all reason. He could no longer hear the screams of the women, but he couldn’t tell if they had fallen silent or if he just couldn’t hear over the blood rushing in his ears. 

In the end, Will’s frantic struggles did no good. Hawke left him facedown bleeding on his bedding. The crew’s rowdy partying could still be heard from outside, but the women’s cries and shrieks had long faded into silence. Will just lay there, shuddering as he pressed his face into the bedding beneath him, body throbbing all over. He found himself yearning for the stupor of the witch’s brew and hating himself for wanting it. Tensing at every noise from where the captain moved about the opposite side of the room, Will waited for the inevitable return. It was too soon. 

From that day on Will was forbidden to cover himself, even his bed sheets were removed. Every day, Hawke would use him, never seeming satisfied, and beat him, and then at the end of the day he would give Will more of the witch’s brew. Occasionally the captain would have him carefully shaved and his hair trimmed, but the young man paid little attention to this. Clarity was a thing of the past. There were other captured vessels and screams, but they ceased to penetrate the fog that had engulfed Will. Nothing was more important than the mind-numbing drink. It seemed that this would be the rest of his life, with no end in sight, no hope. But then she came.


	5. Punishment

The girl had avoided capture when the rest of her ship was slaughtered by slipping on to the attackers’ ship. She found the first available door and snuck inside, but halted abruptly as the pale, battered man struggled to his knees. It had been a rough week for him, the captain was bored and eager to experiment on his slave. He had been taking suggestions from his crew and most involved bloodshed and broken bones. Only the brew kept him alive. The girl jumped as footsteps approached the door. Darting further into the room, she hid behind the curtains of the big master bed, her eyes pleading with the broken man not to give her away. The screams had started outside.

Captain Hawke marched straight over to Will and backhanded him. Battles always left him wanting flesh. When the captain reached for his belt buckle the girl failed to stifle her shocked gasp. Immediately he twisted around to pinpoint the source of the sound. His keen eyes spotted her quickly. Face contorted with rage, Hawke was across the room before she could even think of running.

Dragging her by her hair, Captain Hawke dropped the terrified woman before Will. “You dirty whore!” he exclaimed brutally kicking the fallen man. More accusations came with the severe beating, finally the captain stopped, but he was far from done. The girl was flung carelessly out the door into the arms of the waiting crew. The shackle removed from his ankle, and Will was dragged outside for the first time since coming aboard the Smiling Skull. He was bound on his knees, face pressed against the main mast and arms wrapped around it. The girl shrieked as greedy hands ripped at her dress and the twisted crew converged on her assimilating her into her own Hell on Earth. 

Captain Hawke flogged his now unwanted slave first and then left the broken man bonelessly collapsed against the mast. Putting the pitiful figure out of his mind, the captain dispassionately surveyed the survivors from the other ship. He found a young man, hardly more than a boy, cowering beside an older woman, presumably his mother, and dragged him away to the dreaded captain's cabin. The woman’s loud weeping, begging the captain not to take him, was silenced by a brutal blow. The captain never looked back once.

Most of the captives didn’t survive the long nightmare of that terrible night, but the few that did were claimed and abused repeatedly until they were in much the same condition as Will. No one bothered with the blacksmith, but left him not expecting him to be much longer for this world either, but his miserable existence continued, still engulfed in the continued fog left over from his last dose of the witch's brew.


	6. Blood

When the new cabin boy died after only a few short weeks, Captain Hawke returned to his first slave, right where he’d left him. “Shave him,” he ordered one of his men that happened to be nearby tossing a dagger carelessly. The pirate looked startled, but rose to do his captain’s biding. He carefully put the blade against the prisoner’s face and scrapped at the beard growing there. “Hurry it up!”

The blood welled on his cheek where Will had been nicked. Hawke reached over and dipped his fingers in the blood, fascinated. The pirate worked faster. The more blood, the more of a crowd gathered, watching the scratches appear and the blood flow. They might have cut his throat right then just to watch the blood flow if the captain hadn’t of stopped them. He wanted the fun to last as long as possible. It became a game to see who get the most blood flowing without killing the slave. Will was silent through it all. While his body trembled and pain induced tears leaked down his cheeks, his mind was clouded and he felt nothing. When it seemed as though the body could take no more abuse, Captain Hawke poured just enough of the witch’s brew down his throat to keep him alive. Then he violently used the restrained man, striving to satisfy his wanton lust. It wasn’t enough. 

Hawke returned often as the Smiley Skull prowled the seas looking for more prey. The days passed with Will being beaten and stabbed until death was imminent and then just enough of the drug would be given to him to keep him alive. Time had no meaning to Will, but he watched as several more merchant vessels were attacked, with the women and boys taken captive. Most did not survive long, especially the few Hawke would take for himself. A few would last weeks, maybe even months, but death was inevitable. Hazily, Will often wondered why he didn’t follow them into death, why he was still alive, but then his detached mind would drift off. 

He was so lost in the fog, the blacksmith didn’t notice when everything changed.


	7. Rescue

At first she didn’t recognize him. His dull eyes barely even blinked as she knelt before his broken, naked body. His filthy hair hung unevenly around his bruised face. Someone had carelessly shaved his beard away, leaving many ugly scratches in its place. His ribs showed painfully through his skin and she had to wonder when he had last eaten. He was covered in long deep gashes, caked with old dried blood, and only barely alive. 

“Will,” she breathed, alarmed at his condition. Something flashed in his eyes, but was gone almost before Elizabeth had seen it. She carefully untied his bound hands from the main mast and had him drink just a sip of fresh water. There was not even a flinch as her hand accidentally grazed a wound on his side. Captain Jack Sparrow was uncharacteristically silent as he knelt down and carefully lifted their broken friend. Together they left the grotesque ship and returned to the Black Pearl.

They had been searching for Will Turner for the last six months, always seeming to be two steps behind. Six months since they had arrived at Port Royale with Commodore Norrington and her father. Elizabeth Swann and Jack Sparrow had only stayed on land for three days before she went to rescue him only to meet him on the steps. She then booked them passage on a merchant ship that was willing to give them a ride to Tortuga. Gibbs was there and willing to help them on their search for Will. It was he who had told them what Barbossa had done to the boy and it was he who told them Will was still alive. They had gathered a crew and “borrowed” a ship. Three months later they had retrieved the Black Pearl from Barbossa and his crew. They left no survivors.

It took another three months to track down the Smiling Skull and her band of miscreants, but they had. Captain Hawke had escaped with only a bullet in his shoulder, but his crew would never torture and slaughter again. Elizabeth felt a grim satisfaction settle deep in her gut as she paused to watch the other pirate ship burn. She turned back towards the captain’s quarters and followed Jack in, closing the door behind her.


	8. Sleep

“He’s finally sleeping,” Elizabeth said from where she sat on the floor as the captain closed the door behind himself. He had gone to check on the two women that had been rescued from the other pirates, while she had did her best to make Will comfortable. 

Jack’s gaze snapped over to her. “Looks like he’s not the only one that could use some sleep,” he remarked dryly.

A tired grin stretched itself across her face as her head leaned back, “I’m afraid if I close my eyes, I’ll wake up and he’ll still be missing…that the last day will have been a dream.” She sighed and turned to gaze upon her beloved, “I don’t want to lose him again.” They watched the sleeping man in silence for a while, content to see his chest rise and fall. Elizabeth turned to study Jack, “The two women?”

He shook his head with a grimace, “One has already…left us, and the other…well, there is little hope that she will ever recover.”

“I see,” and she did, for Will was in much the same condition. She sighed and turned back towards Will, resting her head on her arm as she leaned against the side of the bed. “Tell me, Jack, tell me he’ll be alright.”

Jack nodded and squeezed her shoulder comfortingly, “Aye, Luv, he’s a strong ‘un…We’ll see ‘im through it.”

Elizabeth smiled in response and allowed herself to drift off at last.

“…but none of us will ever be the same again…” Captain Sparrow murmured to himself.


	9. White Cap Bay

The following weeks were devoted to healing Will’s endless collection of injuries. Elizabeth and Jack took turns cleaning wounds and changing bandages and forcing liquids down their charge’s throat, while Gibbs took care of the ship and her crew. Anamaria, on the other hand, took great care in bullying the two self-appointed nursemaids into eating and sleeping themselves.

Weeks dragged into months and while his body healed, Will still offered no reaction to anything or anyone. He ate when given food and went where he was lead, but not a word left his mouth. Elizabeth despaired that they might lose him after all.

"Maybe a bit of dry land would do 'im good, Luv," Jack offered watching Elizabeth sink wearily down into her chair.

She glanced over to the bed she had just coaxed Will into and sighed, "It can't hurt to try. But where will we take him?" She turned back to Jack and dropped her head into her hands, "Where will he be safe?"

Grimacing slightly, Jack grunted, "Well, I know this...woman..." He made another face before continuing, "She may be able to help us with that, but..."

"But what?" Elizabeth's expression was a mixture of hopefulness and suspicion. "Surely she wouldn't hurt him further." Her last statement was almost a question, pleading with Jack to give her hope for her beloved.

"We'll need something to bargain with. She'll want payment."

"So we'll give her payment."

Jack stroked his beard thoughtfully, “She likes unusual pearls...”

“We could ask the mermaids,” Anamaria interjected startling the pair. She pushed the door shut behind herself. “We ladies could go out to them without fear. They collect all sorts of baubles.”

“White Cap Bay...” Jack hissed with a shudder.

Elizabeth eyed him and turned to Anamaria, “Will they want anything in return?”

“Music, and maybe some trinkets from land.”

“Oh! I think I know just the thing!” Elizabeth jumped up and hurried over to the dresser. Rummaging through the drawers for a few moments, she smiled as she pulled out a set of pipes. “I found this among Barbossa's things when we were cleaning out the cabin. And...I have all my jewelry. No pearls, unfortunately.”

“To White Cap Bay, then,” Jack declared with more hope than any of them had felt in a while. “Perhaps we should find a Scotsman. One of them can tame our fish ladies right down.”

Anamaria shook her head, “No need to bother. The two of us’ll be just fine.” Elizabeth nodded her agreement and, with a shake of his head, Jack left the cabin to give the crew their new destination. After some not so gentle persuasion, the crew agreed to go to White Cap bay, but only on the condition that they stop some distance away and let the ladies row themselves the rest of the way.


	10. A Touch of Destiny

Gibbs eyed Elizabeth where she sat in the dingy gazing silently across the swamp. Neither had spoken a word of it to anyone else, but both, Elizabeth and Anamaria, had come back from White Cap Bay…different. There was an air around them that hadn’t been there before. There was an added confidence and mystery to both women. When the mermaids were mentioned the women would simply smile, exchange a knowing look, and move the conversation on to a different subject as if the sea women had never even been mentioned. Even Will, in his unresponsiveness, seemed to have sensed the change. Still not a sound came from him, but it took Elizabeth less coaxing to get him to do what she wanted.

They could see her lamp in the gloom of the bog long before they could make out anything else. The woman was waiting for them on the dock. She was the embodiment of mystery, dark skin, long dreadlocks half pulled back with white face paint in strange designs. She had a knowing smile. Once they had tied off the boat, she reached down and took Will by the wrist and led him inside. Alarmed Elizabeth was right behind her.

“A touch of destiny,” she whispered seating Will gently at her little table.

“Tia Dalma,” Jack greeted her, his arms open.

Her face became serious as she turned to Jack, “What ‘ave you brought me?”

Stepping aside, Captain Sparrow motioned his female crewman forward, “We need a safe haven for young Master Turner’s speedy recovery.”

Anamaria reached into her jacket and pulled out the wrapped payment. She dropped the pearl into the mystic’s outstretched hand. It was thoroughly examined before being set aside with a casual, “It will do.” All her attention was then centered on the unresponsive blacksmith. She sniffed his hair and scrutinized his fingers. “Cap’n ‘awke?” she inquired. “‘im bad news…” Tia Dalma turned to her shelves and began rummaging through her collection of mismatch bottles and other as sundry items. “Da brew healed ‘im, but poisoned ‘is mind,” and she chose a small vial. Holding it up in front of Elizabeth, Tia Dalma said, “Dis remedy to de poison. It’ll clear de fog dat ‘as a ‘old on ‘im. Give one drop to ‘im ev’ry morning at sunrise until der is no more.”

“Thank you,” Elizabeth tucked the vial away carefully.

Tia Dalma turned to Gibbs and handed him folded parchment, “Take ‘im ‘ere.” Content that he would do as she told him, she turned away from the sailor and set her gaze once more on the seated man. “William,” she breathed in his ear. To everyone else’s astonishment, he turned his head ever so slightly towards her voice. “Keep it close,” and when she moved away from him, there was something clutched tightly in his hand.

As the shack disappeared into the gloom they heard the echo of the strange woman singing. It faded leaving the group eying the shadows around them, almost expecting something to jump out at them. They returned to the Black Pearl without further incident.


	11. Haven

The isolated island was uninhabited, not because of its distance from other land, but because of the treacherous waters that surrounded it. The jagged reef obstructed the golden beaches, while the sheer cliffs on the other side of the island dropped from their tall heights straight to the ocean floor and a whirlpool threatened to pull curious sailors to their doom if they ventured too close. Carefully following the directions Tia Dalma had given him, Gibbs guided the Pearl to a safe harbor on the small island.

Once a shore, the pirates cleaned up and repaired the small fortress settled solidly at the top of the jagged mountain. An elevator system of ropes and baskets was devised down the cliff’s edge so the Black Pearl wouldn’t have to maneuver the treacherous waters to make port there again. Once Will and Elizabeth were settled in the secure structure and stocked up on supplies, the pirates bid the couple farewell.

“Jack, can you send word to my father that I’m safe?” Elizabeth asked the captain.

He nodded, “Aye, luv. I’ll see that he hears.”

She watched the Black Pearl sail away long into the distance, before returning to where Will waited in the house. For the first time since they had rescued him from the nightmare, he seemed interested in his surroundings. He was standing by a window looking out at the greenery, watching the wild life. To Elizabeth’s amazement, he looked almost peaceful. He jumped when the floor creaked under her step, and the familiar distance returned to his eyes. Elizabeth smiled gently at the blacksmith went about preparing a small supper for the two of them.

The days past, some quickly, others not so much. While she found it a relief that Will was reacting to her, Elizabeth still felt a sharp pang every time the slightest touch caused a fearful flinch or an unexpected movement would have him clutching at the charm from Tia Dalma he now wore around his neck. She pretended not to notice and instead encouraged him in his new found love for gardening. His tentative smile at the new green growth was a comforting balm to her soul. It was possible to believe he would recover from his hellish ordeal.

Still, Will wouldn’t make a peep. All his now child-like communication was through gestures and body language. Elizabeth kept a constant one-sided conversation going with him, even when he didn’t seem to be listening. It was when she would grow silent, he would look worriedly around for her. His frantic eyes would catch site of her and then his breathing would calm and his muscles relax. When she noticed, Elizabeth would smile back at him and resume her monologue. 

The first time the Black Pearl returned, the young man hid and watched the crew interact with Elizabeth from the safety of the shadows. Captain Sparrow brought word that Lord Beckett of the East Indian trading company had taken control of Port Royale, but her father was still well. They stayed for a few days, restocking the island and making repairs to the Pearl before sailing once more into the distance. The following visits, he grew bolder and as long as they didn’t touch him, Will would stay and interact with the pirates. He lost the gaunt haunted expression and regained his healthy weight and color, but still he was silent. Months passed without incident. Elizabeth allowed herself to believe that life was taking a turn for the better, but then he found them.


	12. Overcoming

When he heard the familiar voice coldly threatening just outside the door, Will hesitated, fighting off the rising panic as he tried to stifle the sudden urge to kneel. He could taste the bile at the back of his throat. His vision wavered, the black rushing in, clouding everything. He clenched his teeth and forced himself straight and took a stiff step towards the door. Slowly step by step Will made his way to the door that separated him from the nightmare. It was there, with his hand on the knob, he nearly lost his nerve completely, but then he heard her voice. 

It was easy to tell from Elizabeth’s angry retort how frustrated she was, but even so the iron determination was clear. Hawke must have had her cornered, but Will knew that she wouldn’t let that stop her. He couldn’t let Hawke hurt her, not because of him. With an unsteady breath, Will cracked the door open. For the first time since the cursed pirates had attacked Port Royale, good fortune was on his side, the door didn’t creak. 

The former captain of the Smiling Skull had his back to Will, a wicked dagger in one hand, a cocked pistol in the other. Elizabeth, although facing toward Will, hadn’t yet noticed his presence behind Hawke. Her face was pale and she had both her hands pressed tightly against her left side as she furiously flung venomous insults at the pirate. Red seeped out from between her fingers and fatigue weighed heavily against her shoulders. She would fight to the death. Will wouldn’t – couldn’t let that happen. With a strength he didn’t know he possessed, Will wrenched the pistol from Hawke’s grasp and knocked him aside.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” Hawke demanded picking himself up from the floor. “Do I need to remind you of your place?” Memories of the months of torture screamed at Will to drop the pistol and kneel submissively before the Smiling Skull’s captain, but he swallowed harshly and resisted the urge. Sensing the weakness, Hawke swung at him with the dagger and from there on the rest was a blur. 

Will didn’t feel the bite of the blade as he pushed Hawke away from him; or hear the startled gasp from Elizabeth or the outside door crashing open as he aimed the pistol keeping the other man at bay. He only saw the leering face before him, daring him to pull the trigger. Will couldn’t say how long they stood there, eyes locked in silent combat when a single shot thundered, knocking his former abuser back down. The captain of the Smiling Skull would never pillage the seas again. It was only then Will saw how much his hands were shaking and heard the gentle cooing of Anamaria soothingly in his ear. Softly she lowered his arm and took the still smoking pistol from him.

Suddenly, Will looked around urgently, for a glimpse of Elizabeth. She was seated at the table with Gibbs looking at her wounded side. She turned a reassuring smile his direction as Jack continued his apologies from where he stood by her for not getting there in time. Elizabeth waved the pirate off, assuring him that he was not to blame.

Arms caught him and set him in a chair as Will’s knees gave under him. It was over. Elizabeth’s voice called out to him worriedly, but Anamaria eased her fears from just beside him. Will sat quietly, staring blankly ahead as the bleeding gash across his shoulder was cleaned and bandaged, and waited for the tremors of his body to settle down. Unconsciously he reached up to clutch the charm as the world rushed around him.   
At first Elizabeth worried that Will would return to the catatonic state they found him in, but as things settled back down, he gripped the charm, steadied his breathing, and focused wary eyes on the motion around him. The longer he watched, the more of the tension faded from his muscles until he loosed his grip and, after another quick glance towards Elizabeth, pulled Anamaria outside to his garden. Through the window, she could see the pair picking fresh vegetables and herbs. 

“He’ll be alright,” Jack assured her.

With a smile, Elizabeth nodded, “Yes. I do believe he will be.”

“Oh,” Jack exclaimed. “I ‘ave more news! Bootstrap’s not as dead as we thought! ‘e’s on the Flying Dutchman!” Captain Sparrow launched into an exciting tale of his heroic efforts to obtain this information, while Gibbs rolled his eyes at the captain and tied off the bandage around her waist. 

Elizabeth shifted herself in the chair wondering just how they were going to deal with this new development. Listening to Jack’s story and Gibb’s snorted interjections, she was surprised to find she wasn’t worried. They would make it through, after all – even if none of the men knew it, Calypso was on her way, and she had a soft spot for Will.


End file.
